Piggy Monologue

Today can easily be described as one of the most interesting yet unlucky days of my short life. I am on a stranded island. Alone. No parents, adult supervisors like the ones from our school, no, well, civilization. All I can think about is my family, and the few close friends I had back home. I already miss them so much, most likely because I know in the back of my head that there is a chance I won’t see them again, and I gotta tell you, it really sucks. I met this short and chubby boy who was on the same plane, the one that now lies in the depths of the blue sea that swallows the island’s borders; his name is Piggy. Ha, what a funny name. I know he doesn’t want to be called that, a he said that the other kids used to make fun of him and call him Piggy.

We both got a little distracted due to the fact that there aren’t any adults on the island to tell us what to do, and it made Piggy pretty excited. I suppose I was too, but I also know that it is going to be very hard to survive on our own without any adults. I begin to ponder the many challenges we will probably have to face while we are here. We have to learn how to build shelters, hunt, not get killed by wild animals, filter water, and sustain the mental and physical strains that I am already beginning to feel on this large, pink island. We stroll along the sandy shores of our now forced living quarters, Piggy bends over and picks up something. It was glimmering in the dry and heated air, the sunlight’s beams bouncing off of the object in a beautiful way. It appears to be a conch, or some kind of interesting seashell. I was told by Piggy that these can be quite valuable, and it makes me want to bring it home with me so I can show my family. He also mentioned that they make some kind of noise when you blow air through it. So, I picked up the curious looking shell and blew with all of the air power that my lungs would let me